


Thunder

by starlitnsfw (empiricyakuza)



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: M/M, dark hop, hop's a lil shit who wants to make raihan cry and i mean it, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:20:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empiricyakuza/pseuds/starlitnsfw
Summary: Hop is used to Leon's hand-me-downsa broken rival is no different, but this time, Hop makes the decision for himself
Relationships: Hop/Kibana | Raihan, Kibana | Raihan/Hop
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94





	Thunder

From the moment Hop lays eyes on Raihan, he decides that this is the kind of man he needs to break. 

It’s not out of a personal vendetta at first, simply a boy huddled on the comfy living room sofa. Eye’s glued to the telly, watching his brother advance through the league challenge and subsequently catching matches from other competitors. 

It’s in a match against Kabu that Hop sees him. Raihan is tall for a ten year old, lanky in ways that should make him awkward. Yet he embraces them, uses everything that makes him a bit odd to his advantage. 

He’s picked pokemon that sweep through an arena like hurricanes, bending the elements to his whims like a wrathful god. Hop is kind of swayed by him and his sharp teeth and booming laugh, until the semi-finals arrive. 

The matches are fierce and the defeats are as soul crushing as the wins are exhilarating. Both Raihan and Leon claw and kick their way up the rosters rungs until they stand face to face at the bitter end. There were some close calls, some dazzling moves, but everyone knew it all came down to this battle.

Leon and Raihan, the unbeatable trainer and the dragon boy. The wins under their belts are miles long, each career is formidable but ultimately useless now that only one can advance.

Hop had no doubt in his mind that Leon would win, Leon always wins. His nickname would mean nothing if he lost to Raihan now. But he can’t deny for some heart wrenching moments that Raihan almost has him. Almost wraps his long fingers around Leon’s dream and crushes it like a frail cutiefly.

In the end, Leon wins as he always does, and Hop thinks the face of defeat that Raihan can’t hide is perhaps the hardest one to look at yet. Words and pictures could not do justice for the soulless void that blankets his features, right there on national TV. Hop has never seen a broken man, but he thinks this is the closest he might ever come, it’s scarring, and it makes him giddy. Fingers scratching lightly on the couch cushions as he squirms and cheers loudly for his brother. 

Raihan runs to exit the pitch and no one can stop him. Even when Leon calls out to him but ultimately forsakes him to accept the crowds praise. The real championship match is more or less childsplay from there. Without the fierceness of first time rivals to give it their all, Leon wipes the floor with the gym leaders, blowing their dreams to cinders with his charizard.

When he wins against the champion, Hop cries with joy for his big brother and can’t help but wonder if Raihan is crying too. 

+

The first time Hop actually gets to meet Raihan in person, it’s at a fancy charity ball that the league professionals and their families are invited to. Leon’s reign is only two years old but amassing a fanbase like never before. He’s twelve and boisterous and it endears people to him like sailors to a lighthouse.

Hop stays between the orbit of Leon and his mom, but he can’t help but be drawn to the dark shadow that lurks in the furthest corner of the room.

Raihan is easy to pick out, he’s not dressed formally, still a head above the crowd. His eyes are sharp and deep as the ocean as he sits back and observes. If Leon is impressive as a young unbeatable champion, then Raihan is impressive as one of the youngest gym leaders to ever crop up. It was his first year at the dragon gym but he showed promise and strength and made sure only the best challengers trickled through to the semi-finals.

Some speculated that he only did it to stick close to Leon, his eternal rival, since being a gym leader gave him access to a match every year. 

Hop couldn’t help but think them right and wrong, Raihan wanted to stay close, but he probably also didn’t want to sink back into being a nobody. His vicious charisma screamed for people to take notice of him, to look at him, to mark him as a consciousness on the face of the earth. 

It was sad but Hop could understand, he loved Leon more than anything, but there was no room for his accomplishments on the stage of Leon’s life.

Without warning blue eyes swing to greet his own, Hop has no idea how Raihan noticed him, he’s only seven and short to boot. But he’s regarded with something he can only imagine is disdain, then confusion, then it smooths out and Raihan smiles. 

Hop can’t be sure if it’s meant to be a threat or a greeting, not with those sharp teeth set in a quirked mouth and furrowed brows. Raihan probably didn’t know Leon had a younger brother, most people didn’t seem to know that.

So he waves, hand drawn close to his chest and is ensnared by the uncertainty that plagues those lethal features. After a moment, Raihan beckons him over, a finger crooked and his lips curling in a more genuine way.

Neither Leon nor his mom notice as he does just that, disappearing between pristine pant legs and twirling skirts. It’s curiosity more than anything that draws him in to this familiar stranger’s orbit. When Hop stands in front of Raihan he realizes he’s seen his most humiliating moment yet knows nothing else about him.

Thankfully Raihan is the one to sweep away the tension crawling up Hop’s spine. “Fancy that,” he laughs, and in two years his voice has gotten deeper, “Leon was holdin’ out on us. What’s your name squirt?” 

Indignation boils as Hop’s cheeks puff out on instinct, “I ain’t a squirt!” he blurts out, wilting almost immediately from the annoyed looks of a couple passing by. “M’names Hop,” he adds on much quieter, eyes swinging from Raihan’s sneakers to the shimmering floor under them. 

Right, this was why he was supposed to stay at his mum’s side, so he didn’t embarrass her or Lee. Hop’s half a second from turning back and retreating when long fingers enter his field of vision and tip his head skyward, forcing him to meet the blue of Raihan’s eyes.

There’s only something thoughtful there, his mouth pulling slightly before it breaks out into another grin. This one is playful, like the ones he used to show on TV when he was about to turn a battle on its head.

“Wanna dip to the garden for a tick?” he asks, and only then does Hop notice a pokeball being held between Raihan’s other fingers, “I can show you a new friend I made.” 

Well, who was he to pass this up? Fear keeps him from speaking again, but Hop makes his answer known by taking the hand touching his face and holding it tightly. Perhaps Raihan was a stranger, but he was still a gym leader and someone his brother knew, so he lets himself be pulled outside without protest. 

Back in the open air reminds Hop that he can actually breathe, nature greets him in a way the socialite class couldn’t possibly begin to. He doubted they were all bad people, but they certainly didn’t view him as anything more than a small pest. 

He drags in a long breathe as he’s lead down a staircase and out into the garden proper, hand never leaving Raihan’s as they travel.

“I ain’t gonna bite,” Raihan says helpfully after a moment or two, then he laughs, “well, maybe a nip or two but nothin to write home about.” 

The innuendo flights right over Hop’s head, but his courage has returned now that he doesn’t feel so trapped. “Why are your teeth so pointy?” he asks in return, “d’ya bite your lip a lot?” it’s not really what Hop means to ask but it rewards him with another round of laughter when Raihan stops to sit on the edge of a fountain. 

His face is so much different now that they’re alone, softer in all the places he tried so hard to seem sharp and dangerous. “Gotta scare all the challenger’s don’t I?” it doesn’t really answer Hop’s question, and he’s about to pester when a pokeball is tossed past him and he hears something land and make a unique cooing noise.

All other things fly right from Hop’s mind as he eagerly turns around, finding himself almost face to face with a sliggoo. He gasps and it copies him, its small arms flying toward its face as if in shock. Sliggoo weren’t something Hop normally got to see, they were a bit on the rare side, so unlike all the yamper and wooloo that tottered the fields of Postwick. 

“Wow,” he marvels, a hand reaching to touch the little antenna that sprouted from sliggoo’s head before quickly looking back at Raihan. “Is it okay if…?” 

A hand is already smoothing along his spine, nudging him forward and that’s all the answer that Hop needs. His first reaction to touching sliggoo is that it’s slippery, it’s body is soft and pliable like jello as Hop pats across its head and along a curly antenna. The next thing he realizes is that, true to its name, its gooey, a thin trail of slime chasing Hop’s hand as he pulls away. 

His consensus is to hug the pokemon close, because it’s so obviously shaped like a friend and Hop can’t resist himself. 

He’s filled with the purest kind of joy that only a pokemon could bring, so it serves him right when he hears Leon’s voice call out from above them. “Hop? Raihan? What’s going on?”

Leon’s voice is, strangely tense, under the usual friendly lilt that lifts it. Something about it wriggles under Hop’s skin and whispers to him ‘you’ve made a mistake.’

Nervous now, Hop peeks past sliggoo’s head, unsure of the look he’s being cast. It’s not one he thinks he’s ever going to forget.

There’s always been something about Leon that was made of light, a beaming glow that rose off his skin like an angel. Now, wickedness lurks just past the cherubim facade, darkness in his eyes of fools gold that promised repentance.

It’s only when Hop realizes that Leon is leveling Raihan with that look that he feels his legs begin to shake. All the strength in him fails when he feels the body at his back stand to its full height. The hand that had been along his spine creeping higher with the ascent until it could pat lightly on Hop’s head.

“Nothin’ much,” Raihan chirps and it’s sincerity feels of lies. “Jus showin this kiddo my sliggoo, say, he looks an awful lot like you, doesn’t he?” 

Before Hop can process the scene, Leon is down the stairs in a flash. It’s the fastest Hop’s seen him move since he’d chased a herd of wooloo for the old folk in Wedgeherst. In the diluted lights shimmering from the large windows of the ballroom, Leon almost looks like the devil.

But Hop is young, his eyes too innocent to truly perceive the danger that now radiates from his big brother. What Hop sees is a failure in himself for not doing the simple thing he’d been asked to do. 

“Stay close to us,” his mother had warned on the taxi ride over.  _ Stay close _ .

The shame that mounts is a sharp acrid thing that burns at Hop in all the wrong places, it singes his fingertips until he’s curled up into himself.

The cloak of regret seems to hide him from the eyes of both Leon and Raihan as they size one another up. Leon’s smile is still ice cold, and Hop doesn’t have to look back to know Raihan’s is once again as sharp as a meowth’s. “He’s my lil brother,” it’s said casually but hold’s a secret threat, “c’mon over here Hip-Hop, mum was wonderin where you scampered off to.” 

There’s no mistaking the command in the request and Hop can do little more than trip over himself to his brother’s side, forced now to look at the root of his new problems. 

As much as it’s lethal, there’s something distinctly wounded about Raihan’s face, it lies hidden in the curves of his brows and the crinkle of his nose. Hop feels, bad, that they’re being punished, but as much as he feels for this very nice boy, he can’t help a little seed of resentment. If Raihan hadn’t asked him to go outside, they wouldn’t even be in trouble to begin with.

The way Raihan’s expression crumples a little further when his gaze flickers to Hop lets him know he wasn’t doing a good job at hiding his thoughts.

A heady slurry of guilt and anger continue to brew in Hop, fanned further when the cape Leon had started wearing is draped over him. It feels like a curtain that cuts him off from his empathy, face now nestled ever so slightly in the softness of his big brother’s shirt. 

“We havin’ a problem mate?” Raihan asks, and he sounds so far away, an ocean’s length from the safety bubble Hop was now bundled in. He feels Leon’s laugh more than he hears it, a force that shakes both of their bodies and things begin to get unfocused. 

Something about a pokemon battle, more voices of spectators pouring out from the artful stained glass doors like impidimp from dingy cupboards. 

Hop only dares to peek out from behind red fabric when he hears charizard roar, knows the triumph in Leon’s win before it’s come to pass. He can even see it in Raihan, the knowledge that he cannot win no matter how hard he struggles and screams. 

For just a second, the shadow of his shattering semi-finals defeat flickers on his face, a specter that will haunt him eternal.

Hop can’t help but think that it’s the best expression he’s seen on Raihan the whole night. 

+

It’s not until he’s fifteen and finally inducted into the league challenge that Hop meets Raihan again. Neither is it under normal circumstances that their paths cross. This time, Hop grabs the reigns of fate and twists them to suit his needs.

_ This time _ , it’s a quiet night of no real importance. There’s no charity ball to make mistakes at, no room of strangers to judge Hop or Raihan like criminals at their trials. It’s simply a time of peace at the Hammerlocke vault, the only sounds coming from a pair of pitter pattering feet and the fountains from the garden just across the way.

It's common knowledge that Raihan would travel to the vault at night, a sliver of secret time he’d take to himself as he was its sole protector. Just something to steal away, to let barriers fall and for the real man to emerge from behind the facade that ran around in the light of day.

No one was supposed to share it with him, not a single soul. Which is why this sacred time finds Hop secured under the counter inside the vaults main room. Hidden away between cubbies of paperwork and pamphlets, he waits with eyes half lidded and a slender object clutched in hand. 

It had been easy enough to secure himself a hiding place when the building was being locked up. When Hop chose to close his mouth and calm his soul he was as unremarkable as wallpaper, passed by like a ghost. 

It was as useful as it was a nauseating reminder of how unremarkable Hop truly was. But still, he thinks idly as the door creaks open, it could come in handy.

With a patience ten years in the making, Hop listens to Raihan step into the room and lock the door.

It was no good to pop out right when he entered, he’d overpower Hop in a heartbeat. Not to mention he’d be removed from the league challenge if he did this out of order. No, Hop remains curled up into the scenery, eyes watching for the sign that Raihan was moving up the stairs. 

It takes a moment, the only sound being a soft rustling and a deep lazy hum. Then finally, Hop hears a voice that’s deeper still, rumbling up his spine like an arcanines growl. 

“‘Kay Rotom why dontcha take a break? I’m gonna pop up to the second floor to make sure the door is locked.” 

There’s another moment of noise before Hop catches sight of Raihan, ever taller and lanky and distinctly missing a phone as he begins his ascent. Good, Hop didn’t really want to break his phone, but he would if he needed to. 

So once the last sliver of Raihan disappears, Hop unfolds himself from his position and begins to move after him.

The stairs are stone and make no noise under Hop’s softly treading feet. He’d removed his shoes beforehand, mindful to avoid as many slip ups as he could. He makes his way just close enough behind Raihan to still see him but not tread along his heels. 

Raihan’s none the wiser, wrapped so tightly in his bubble of security that he doesn’t feel the danger curling along the walls. Doesn’t feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand at the first hint of malice.

Raihan doesn’t hear the rod extend and activate until Hop is upon him. 

The rod had been a trinket won off a traveling Kanto rancher on route 4. He’d had no money when Hop had beat him, so he offered what he called a Thunder Rod. An electrified item used to prod and corral unruly flaaffy and mareep into their pastures. 

Hop knew it was used for something else as well when he’d seen the young shaking boy by the man's tent. Covered head to toe in fabric with limbs so spastic that the youth couldn’t grip his thermos.

That didn’t matter much to Hop, what did matter is the way the rod swings, shimmering like a charged up joltik. It hits Raihan square in the small of his back and he seizes, the sensation so abrupt and powerful that he can’t even make a noise.

The first pass knocks Raihan straight to the ground, his limbs shaking as he tries to catch himself and turn to face his attacker.

Hop doesn’t give him the chance and in one swift moment he cranks the dial higher and jabs the tip of the rod into Raihan’s back again. This time when it activates it does exactly what Hop had wanted, knocking Raihan clean out of the waking world. 

What he doesn’t expect is the small puddle that forms under the limp body, an unmistakable, pungent smell permeating the air. 

He can’t really help the little laugh that spills out of shaky lips as he crouches down to skim his fingers through the warm dark liquid. Looks like the Thunder Rod far surpassed his original expectations, Hop almost regretted not asking if the rancher had a spare he could take too. Oh well, things of the past, he focuses instead on locating Raihan’s phone, pulling it out of his back pocket and this time his face lights up with glee.

The screen is dark and refuses to activate on Raihan’s phone. It was more than likely that the Thunder Rod had also knocked the rotom inside unconscious and accidentally fried the electronic with it. All in all it works in his favor as he calls out his thwackey, his entire form softening as the energetic pokemon raises its sticks in greeting. 

“Hey bud,” he chirps back, gently ruffling the tuff on its head with his untainted hand, “think you can help me with somethin?”

Being his partner, thwackey doesn’t question the sight of Raihan passed out on the floor. It simply knocks its sticks together and hoots in agreement, stowing them back in its hair so they can begin the process of dragging Raihan back down the stairs. Hop may have struck Raihan with enough voltage to knock a galvantula out but he’s still kind, careful to shield the mans head as they scoot down the stairs. Then down an entire second flight of stairs to the basement jail.

Well it wasn’t truly a jail anymore, simply empty cells from a time long past.

It’s here that they begin the more delicate process of rolling him over, using items from Hops bag to secure the scene of their crime. Slender wrists are strung up by cuffs looped between cell bars. The beanie that Raihan so adored is pushed down over his eyes so Hop doesn’t have to douse the room in darkness.

Finally he takes a very special item from his bag, one that had taken some smooth talking to get from a tiny specialty shop in Motostoke. The ball gag is placed in Raihan’s mouth with the most care of all, Hop’s fingers running gently along sharp teeth while securing it in place.

Some of it took away from the fun of the situation but Hop couldn’t be picky about what kept this endeavor secret. “Thwackey, mind poppin topside and keepin an eye out for me?” He’s grateful when his partner does as asked, bouncing up the stairs and disappearing from sight, finally leaving Hop and Raihan alone. This is perhaps the first time they’ve ever truly been alone save the few minutes they’d traveled to the garden in his youth. 

Eager hands gently pull at Raihan’s soaked shorts, peeling them down his body until they tangle at his shoes. In true fashion he’s not wearing any underwear, showing Hop his softened cock still pearled with urine. 

The pace is semi-leisurely as Hop roots around in his pocket and products something the size of a sugar packet. It’s placed with the utmost care between his teeth as he moves to straddle Raihan, lowering himself onto a toned stomach covered by a dirty jacket.

After making sure the Thunder Rod is still at his side, Hop hums a little tune and rips the packet apart, ignoring the burning sensation it brings to his eyes as he waves it under Raihan’s nose.

“Wake up,” he coos, passing it close to the lax face a few times before Raihan’s whole body jerks with a start. It’s not very strong but it’s clearly brought him back, Hop can feel him tense just under his thighs. Raihan tries to talk but his words push up and muddle against the ball gag, head lolling slowly at first, picking up speed as the situation becomes more clear to him.

“Don’t bother,” Hop says happily, a smile pulling at his lips when Raihan positively seizes once more, his feet attempting to kick out and getting stuck in his wet shorts.

With the smelling salts placed to the side, Hop scoops the Thunder Rod up and fiddles with the dial once again. “You’re trapped,” he says, pushing the dial to as weak as it could go, “and if you keep being bad, I’m gonna punish you, got it?” A snarl of defiance rips from Raihan’s throat and reverberates deep in his chest.

Hop rewards him by gently laying the rod against his shoulder and hitting the button, enjoying the sharp garbled noise that ruins the moment. 

He reaches for the hood of Raihan’s jacket and idly pushes it away from his throat, lifting the rod closer and tapping his finger on the button. “Told ya, shouldn’t have tested me,” he croons in a tone as sweet as salt, laying the cold metal against the soft smoothness of Raihan’s skin. 

“Now, why don’t you be a good boy and whine?” 

The command is more of a tease than anything, Hop finally has Raihan powerless just as he’s always wanted.

The pitiful whimper that tumbles, with some hesitation, out of Raihan’s throat makes him reconsider his position on that. In fact Hop pauses to really study this man underneath him, the tremble that was starting to form in his jaw, the faint quiver of his body.

Hop activates the rod near Raihan’s ear just to watch him jerk away in fear like a caged animal and smiles. “Ya pissed all over the floor the first time,” he says it as lightly as if they were speaking of the weather. “Soaked your knickers and everything, wonder what everyone would think of the fearsome dragon leader lookin like this.”

Light and careful, Hop traces the activated item close to Raihan’s cheek, moving with agonizing precision back to his throat. “Wonder if ya could do it again,” then, rather unprompted, he adds kindly, “this is how you’re supposed to look. Not all chipper n’cocky.” 

No, he’s always thought Raihan looked much prettier when he was afraid and upset. “Besides, we all know you’ll never beat Leon, best to just stay in the shadows like a failure dontcha think?” 

It takes some actual effort not to slip up and call his big brother by his cherished nickname. And it pays off immediately when Raihan tries to jerk at the mention, bumping himself into the rod and letting out what can only be a squeal of pain. The noise tumbles and tapers off into something rougher and stuttering, a fearful thing that makes Hop sigh in appreciation.

By now he’s straining against his pants, the sensation growing as pronounced as the wet spot against his bottom. Hop could have sworn Raihan had emptied himself out, guess he’d been wrong.

He’s at least gracious enough to let go of the button as he rolls his hips against Raihan’s trembling stomach and hums sweetly. “I’ll cut’cha a deal,” his voice remains airy as he rolls his hips for more friction, “if you’re good n’let me use you up, I won’t post this on the web got it?” 

There were no phones in sight to actually proceed with this threat, but by the choked sob he can make out, he knows Raihan believes him. “Good, now, your prick’s too big for me, so start humpin me like a scorbunny.” He slides backwards just enough to press Raihan’s cock up against the back of his jeans, he’s still flaccid but Hop was going to be sure to steal even that from him.

In all honesty he thinks it’s a shame he’s too big, maybe next time Hop could be prepared for that too.

Raihan doesn’t move, so Hop strikes the rod lightly against his chest to force him into action. He manages to coax a gasp and the slow stuttering motion of Raihan sliding his cock along the curve of Hop’s butt. Well, he’d need to train him up a bit, there wasn’t going to be a point to cracking Raihan if Hop couldn’t also reshape the pieces to his liking. 

It’s hard to begrudge him for the sloppy job, especially when his muscles were probably still weak from the initial strikes. But Hop isn’t here to take pity, he’s here to get what he’s always wanted from Raihan and what he alone can have.

So he starts to grind down in return, a hand placed on the gentle slope of Raihan’s quivering stomach. For a few moments there’s nothing but soft sighs and muffled hiccups as they work themselves up. Hop wants nothing more than to push Raihan inside him and see the tears that are undoubtedly being soaked up by his beanie.

But that’s not for now, for now he presses his fingers sharply into Raihan’s gut and lifts himself up to see how well he’s come along.

A flash of something sparkly catches his eye when Raihan’s cock falls against his belly. There’s a shiny red jeweled stud peeking out from his head and it makes Hop laugh. “You got jewelry on your dick? Shoulda known you’d do something that flashy,” if he’s honest he thinks it’s actually fairly cute. “They even match your earrings, next time, wear purple ones,” for Hop’s hair color of course. 

He lowers himself back down and starts to move lazily, hearing something that sounds suspiciously like a moan. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that some part of Raihan was enjoying this, being put in his place properly.

Hop can feel himself drawing closer to his climax, can even feel the cock he’s now trapped under himself twitching eagerly. “Make you another deal,” he nearly stutters, “I’ll take the gag off so you can bite me once, do anything else and I hit you so hard I knock you out again, got it?” 

The squirming from underneath him stalls out for a moment as Raihan registers this bargain. Hop shouldn’t be offering this, but not even he can deny his daydreams of those sharp canines piercing him.

A few more seconds go by before, with a great deal of hesitation, Raihan nods. It makes Hop so giddy that he nearly drops the Thunder Rod as he reaches up to undo the buckle on the gag. “Remember, I’ll strike you if you misbehave,” is his final warning as the ball is slowly popped out of Raihan’s mouth and the first thing he does is sob.

“Why’re you doin this?” He manages to slur out, voice a scratchy mess from the accidental bump with the rod.  _ Why _ ? Hop hums and slowly begins grinding again. 

“Because I watched you lose to Leon for that very first time and you looked so pretty when your dreams were shattered.”

He watches Raihan suck in a breath, his lips trembling as he tries to understand this truthful confession. Hop simply continues, “you wear so many masks, but isn’t that who you really are? Just a broken loser who will never beat your rival?”

Raihan jerks a bit at that, his voice gaining a tinge of anger, “fuck you, fuck you that’s not me-“

The rod hits him in the arm and he cries out, the noise is now so genuine and pure that Hop almost comes on the spot. “I warned you to be good,” he bites out around his euphoria. “We both know what you are, and I like it, so just be a good boy and bite me now or I’ll make you piss all over the both of us.” 

Hop’s eyes light up when Raihan’s mouth screws into a quaking mess and then slowly but surely opens to reveal his teeth. 

“Good boy,” Hop coos as he leans forward, stretching himself across Raihan’s torso until his nose can nuzzle the man’s ear. “Now put your mouth on my neck.”

He makes sure to continue his excruciating rut as Raihan struggles to lift his head to the proper position. It takes a few tries to get him there, but finally there are fangs pressed with wavering pressure to the soft meat of his shoulder and Hop smiles.

His praise is filled with the most pride it can muster, before the rod is dialed back up whipped sharply into Raihan’s side.

The convulsion is positively violent as he spasms, teeth biting down into Hop’s shoulder with such a force that he has to swallow a shriek. He feels something warm soaking the inside and outside of his pants as he rides the wave into Raihan’s next forced slumber. Hips trembling and shaking as they continue to move even when the form under him is completely limp once again.

It’s perfect, Raihan was perfect like this and if Hop didn’t know any better he’d almost consider becoming a fanboy. 

But there’s no real use to being the fanboy of someone who’s such a failure is there. Leon was the one who deserves all the fans and praise he could possibly handle, and as for Raihan? Hop is careful to remove his mouth from his shoulder, cradling his head with a shaky arm and snorting into soft fabric. Raihan deserves exactly this, a shell of a human being sprawled out in his own mess all for Hop’s own enjoyment.

It suited him perfectly, but Hop is not unkind for a job well done. Once he’s gained enough strength, he pushes himself off and begins to free his pet. Making sure Raihan looks like nothing more than a drunken mess before making his own departure.

When Hop finally manages to stumble back upstairs, he finds his thwackey idly tapping a beat against one of the couch cushions in the far corner. An abandoned pair of shoes tucked underneath the couch itself. His entire body screams for sleep, his shoulder burning for medical attention as blood threatens to soak through his jacket. Hop just flashes a tired grin at his partner and pulls out a pokeball, “c’mon mate, let’s get back to our room.”

+

Hop doesn’t have to pretend to be surprised the next time he sees Raihan, which just so happens to be about a week later. Gloria had finally ambled into Hammerlocke, her entire outfit covered in dirt and leaves from whatever hooligan business she’d been up to in the wild area. She wore freedom like a crown of flowers, adding to the millions of reasons why Hop adored her so much. 

They’re standing just outside the pokemon center, Hop mindful not to allow his marked shoulder to hinder him as he coaxes all kinds of stories out of Gloria.

They’re just in the middle of talking about the dreepy she’d managed to catch when the sound of footsteps makes them pause and look over. And then up, and up, both of them tipping their heads back to see almost owlish eyes trained back, more specifically, right at Hop.

It’s not hard to play the part of a confused teenager, for the most part, he really is confused. What was Raihan doing wandering around near a pokemon center? He looks spooked, the barest of tremors dancing along his fingers.

No matter how much the pain makes him want to scream, Hop casually folds his arms behind his head and grins. “Hey, it’s Raihan! Whatcha doin lookin like a lost wooloo, man?” Gloria looks between them, her features are as carefully blank as always before she also adds, “are you alright Raihan?” 

There’s something fun about watching a man who can barely keep himself together. Raihan’s eyes never waiver from Hop’s face so it gives him a beautiful front row seat to all the emotions he cannot contain. 

It’s clear he thinks Hop is the one who had a little fun with him, but the uncertainty that chews at the corners of his features the longer they stand there is almost too good to be true. He can’t be sure, Hop’s voice is distinct but nothing else is matching up and it’s that uncertainty that’s killing him the most. 

He probably feels like Hop should be nervous to be around him, should wear on his face some kind of pride or guilt for what he’s done. But there are only congenial smiles and brows furrowed in confusion when Raihan takes too long to respond.

Hop gives him nothing he needs and it’s obvious that Raihan can’t handle it. Eventually he seems to blink back into himself, the smile he gives them is worse than a sham, “sorry,” he laughs and the sound is ugly, “thought you were someone else, m’feelin a lil sick right now.”

Gloria says something in return but Hop tunes her out, his gaze zeroing in on something he’d failed to notice before.

There’s a shimmer on Raihan’s ear, on TV it sparkled a glorious gold, but right here and now the color was a deep and pretty purple.

“Say,” he interrupts, his smile fighting to split his face, “why don’t I walk ya back to the tower? Since  _ you  _ should get cleaned up, mate.” Hop shoots a little knowing look to Gloria, her stoicism lapsing into disdain at the jab. 

But it’s clear that Hop’s in the right, she can’t really be running around Hammerlocke looking like a meowth that’s just escaped from a chimney. “Fine,” she concedes, moving around the two of them to the doors of the pokemon center. “But I’ll get you back for this one, Hop,” she bumps him in what could be considered a threateningly playful manner before disappearing inside.

Hop makes a face at her retreating form, last time Gloria said something like that, he didn’t sleep for a week. Hoping to shrug it off, Hop lowers his arms and reaches for one of Raihan’s wrists, “c’mon big guy I’ll even hold your hand so ya don’t get lost!” There’s a minor flinch but otherwise Raihan is obedient to Hop’s manhandling, floating along behind him like a lost drifloon. 

The walk back to the stadium is short, seeing as how it’s located just behind the pokemon center. But it was an excuse Hop would gladly take to give Raihan a treat for being so good for him.

None of the trainers in the lobby seem to mind much as Hop parades past them with Raihan in tow. If he’s been this off for the past week then this is most likely the least strange thing they’ve seen. He’s only making guesswork as he pulls Raihan behind one of the doors, figuring as long as he never turned the same way twice he’d probably find somewhere they could be alone.

Eventually his guess pays off when they end up in the stadium’s changing room, or, so he thinks. It’s pretty small for such a big building, and it’s not until Hop sees a few signed posters of dragon types on the walls that he realizes where they actually are.

“You have your own changing room?” his voice is a little awed, something like this hadn’t crossed his mind before. Which was a pity, it would have been fun to play with Raihan in here for the first time, but Hammerlocke stadium doubled as the chairman's energy tower. Best not to antagonize the man who could remove Hop from the path to proving his own existence in this world. 

No response greets him, Raihan is still silent but this time, Hop thinks the silence is different. He turns around just in time to watch Raihan collapse of his own accord. Knees cracking harshly against the floor but the only thing that registers on his face is….?

Hop genuinely can’t make out the cocktail of expressions laid out before him, there’s so much there that his heart beat picks up. It’s so, raw, he can’t help but note, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen so many things passover Raihan’s face before. 

But what caused it? Hop hasn’t said a word to hint at the night that so clearly plagues Raihan. He shakes his head, ready to question the fallen man when a mirror just at his side catches his full train of thought. 

There’s an abstract stain that’s begun to spot through his jacket, a dark cranberry color that hadn’t been there before. Hop stares at his reflection in muted wonder and realizes  _ oh _ , so he really shouldn’t have agitated his shoulder. 

This wasn’t really the treat he’d had planned, his heart is picking up quicker now, a distant drumming in his ears. Only two options were really present, lie or reveal the truth. There would be no time to pull the Thunder Rod out of his bag and strike.

Raihan doesn’t give him the option, he doesn’t move but his voice floats up to Hop’s ears, soft and faint. “I wore the jewelry you wanted,” the tone is slow and hesitant, “is it good?”

The drumming is thunderous now and it’s all Hop can do not to come apart at the seams right there. He didn’t think Raihan would be so pliant after one go, that one little nudge would push him so far into Hop’s hands.

In the mirror Hop reaches out to touch the visible earring, turning it slightly to admire the shade of purple embedded there. It’s a little off from his hair, could almost be mistaken for obsidian until the light hits them. It’s not quite right but Hop thinks he likes this better. His lips quirk slightly and Raihan tenses, uncertain now that he can see Hop’s face. 

“You did great, guess I just wasn’t expectin it,” Hop laughs and finally looks down at the real thing and not the doppelgänger in the mirror. Curious fingers roll inward to a sharp jawline, trailing along lightly “did you have fun then? Won’t be mad if ya say no.”

It’s a light test, he really won’t be mad but that doesn’t mean he can’t punish Raihan for responding negatively.

It’s to his great delight that a dust of color darkens Raihan’s cheeks and he’s unable to keep eye contact. His gaze travels around for a moment as he thinks, but the way he leans into Hop’s fingers is all the answer he really needs.

“You’re gross,” Hop laughs, leaning down now to force Raihan’s attention back on him. “So gross, can’t believe you liked it,” more fingers flutter upwards to stroke along warm cheeks and push Raihan’s beanie back. 

Skin brushes as Hop nuzzles along the slope of an elegant nose, feeling the beginnings of something wet work its way down his face. It draws the softest warbling whine and a silent confirmation that Raihan can’t deny his enjoyment. Hop’s praise is too much for him to consider denying, how nice it must all feel to his ego that someone finally likes him for his mediocrity.

Hop had never dreamed it would only take a little prodding to slip in between the cracks of this man. But he supposed when all Raihan has are his failures, there was no pride to protect him.

Raihan is rewarded with a light kiss along the corner of his mouth, a hand sliding to cradle the back of his head as Hop moves to envelope him.

“Good Boy.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i am so, TIRED oh my god ive been working on this for a few days straight i could sleep for 17 years now zzz
> 
> i know its a bit fast paced but i like the thought of raihan being at that tipping point of a breakdown and if you wanted to be punished and loved for your ugliness wouldnt YOU break after one round with a poke-cattle prod?
> 
> this was inspired by my sweetest eyon i hope you like it hunNY
> 
> (come catch me @ starlitnsfw on twitter)


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